After The Fact Version 3
by Gold
Summary: [Under Revision] This story is set more than a century after the end of X1999. It tells of what happened when fourteen souls were given another chance. SS, FK.
1. After The Fact Version 3 Prologue

© 2002 Original Storyline by AlseGold   
  
Well, I wanted this story to be up in more places, since right now, I've lost the original file where it was written. I once wrote a couple of versions of _After The Fact_, but since then, I've changed the original completely so that it looks like this now. Those of you who've discovered CLAMPESQUE will remember this...and now, is the second place anywhere in this world that's got this fic.

I wrote this because I found out one day that "SakurazUka" is "Cherry blossom grave" and "SakurazAka" is "Cherry blossom hill". I thought it'd be a pity not to use it, and henceforth sprang this. It is NOT a story about theories of destiny and stuff. I can't write heavy stuff. But...enjoy this. You'll be able to spot some evil X parallels along the way.   
  
For Mikuro-san, who likes Fuuma and Kamui as a couple.   
  
_After The Fact (Version 3.0)   
Prologue: Blame It On The…_  
  
It's a really rather curious thing.   
  
Life is full of "only ifs". That's why it's so easy to blame destiny. If not for fate—if not for destiny—if not for God—if not for Some Other Being—   
  
It's comfortable to believe that it is never one's fault, but always that of Someone or Something Else. That way, the responsibility lies another way.   
Do we have free choice?   
  
Or is it that our paths were fixed from the moment we were born and perhaps even before that?   
  
The truth, of course, is that there's a judicious mix of both. One has the freedom to choose. That, however, is not quite the same as having the freedom to decide what choices are available. But it is always possible that where there's a will, there's a way. And it must be remembered that in everything there is a purpose, however small and minor, that contributes to part of the whole.   
  
Life is not governed by chaos.   
  
Nor is it accurate to surmise that one has no freedom of choice. That would make destiny pre-ordained, foreordained, and with absolutely no room for manoeuvre.   
  
Then it would have made absolutely no sense for Magami Tokiko to tell Shirou Kamui that he could change destiny. It would have made absolutely no sense for Monou Kotori to leave one final message for her brother and her friend, that destiny was not fixed.   
  
There is a balance in everything. Some people call it between light and dark; others say good and evil; yet others say black and white… They're all saying the same thing, really, and they're all both right and wrong.   
  
The Balance everywhere in the Universe, across the Eternity of Time and more, is between chaos (unlimited, absolute freedom of choice and the twin powers of creation and destruction) and order (law and the big picture). One notes that good and evil, light and dark, black and white, or male and female can fall within either category.   
  
That's what's so terribly difficult to understand.   
  
Earth is a world of absolutes.   
  
Humanity _demands_ that there be absolutes, although they are frequently forced to compromise or else risk war (and sometimes war breaks out because of determination to see absolutes and nothing but absolutes). It is impossible for many to understand that absolutes cannot exist in a world that was created on the premise of a fragile balance. So every time the balance tilts one way, something must occur to help it to tilt the _other_ way in order to maintain this equilibrium. The occurrence and the results aren't always pretty to watch. And sometimes it's difficult to accept that abhorrent things happen as a result of the tilting of the balance.   
  
So it's very easy to blame what-might-have-been on destiny, fate, or The Being(s) Up There.   
  
But is humanity really all that certain that if destiny, or fate, or Whoever (or _What_ever…), gave them another chance, they'd take it and make the best of it, putting right what was wrong in the past? If destiny et al even gave them a second _lifetime_ to do so, and granted them their wishes-that-might-have-been-if-not-for-destiny-and-the-whole-schmuck, would they take it?   
  
Of course, it depends on those wishes. And everyone thinks _they_ know best.   
  
Once upon a time, thousands of people died to put the balance right.   
  
Of them, fourteen people stood out, marked by their destiny to tilt the balance.   
  
But though equilibrium was restored eventually, something more was needed. They had lived one lifetime serving destiny twice over—once for the lives they had been born to lead (e.g. as a computer genius par none or a Guardian of an Ancient Tree), and twice for the lives they had been marked to lead (e.g. as a Chi no Ryu, Ten no Ryu, or hapless Kamui). Let them have another lifetime, then, to do what they had not been allowed to. Let them live as normal people, with normal lives, which was what they should have been born to do in the first place.   
  
So the Power(s) That Be allowed it to be so.   
  
But it's really curious how those lives played themselves out. Each soul asked for something different before it went hurtling downwards, back into the mortal world.   
  
One asked to be reborn again with another soul (not one of the fourteen) as brother and sister, as they had been, and to be given a chance to spend that lifetime with a special someone he was never meant to be with in the past.   
  
Another asked to be with a little dog who had been her companion, and to be closer to the age of a young man she had liked as a little girl on earth, and hoped that their paths would cross because she had liked him so much.   
  
A third, who had hardly known what it meant to feel, asked to be given a warm, tender heart, and emotions such as it had felt in the moments before the death of its body in the past.   
  
Most of the other fourteen souls wanted a quiet, peaceful, happy life and the chance to pursue the loves and goals that had been denied as choices to them in the past.   
  
But two souls stood out.   
  
They asked that their memories of their past and what they had done, be given to them in their new lives.   
  
They did not want to forget…   
  
Maybe sometimes it's better for destiny to make the choice, since Man has always done a jolly good job of screwing up his life, all unasked.   
  
Maybe sometimes it's better for Man _not_ to decide what _he_ wants, in case he turns out to be a darned idiot about it.


	2. After The Fact Version 3 Part 1

© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline created by AlseGold

Disclaimer: X! Not Mine! sobs

Note the timeline and the X references. =)   
  
This part is for Aishuu, who gave me my first ever review for an X fanfic I wrote, and asked in that same review that I would continue to write S/S. So I have.

Skuld once wrote that my writing improved after the first five or so chapters. However, I have chosen _not_ to revise the initial chapters… because, I suppose, I have a fondness for this old piece. =) Sadly, I still need a better title. Yuk.  
  
_After The Fact (Version 3.0)   
Part 1: When Harry Met Sally_   
  
  
It was a fine day in Ueno Park.   
  
The sakura were in full bloom and the grounds of the park were littered with people who had come to admire the blossom-laden branches. Here and there, a family picnicked happily, complete with groundsheet and baskets of food; at one side, groups of high school students in their distinctive uniforms laughed and flirted with one another; at another, young couples strolled under the trees, fingers linked in the most romantic of gestures. But the place by the lakeside was by far the most popular.   
  
The lake was an artificial one that had been added about a century ago, in the year 3068 AD, and was an unusual shape…from the top it looked exactly the shape of a puddle of water (though certainly not the size!). It was called a lake merely because it was really too big to be called a swimming pool, it was certainly not an outdoor Jacuzzi or bathing spring, and it was decidedly too small to be called anything else. So it was called a lake, although it was quite easy to see clear across it to the other side. It was a very pretty place, with a green slope leading down to it (the slope was also an artificial addition, but it had once been a real and very steep series of humps that had appeared because of several tremendous earthquakes that had almost razed Tokyo to the ground over a millennia ago). It was a much sought-after picnic spot.   
  
But the peace was shattered by a shriek.   
  
"Someone, _help_! My babies!"   
  
A large stroller, in which two squalling babies were strapped, was rolling down the slope, and picking up speed as it went. There were numerous cries of dismay and many scrambled to their feet to try to stop the runaway stroller.   
  
Sumeragi Honami was running breathlessly after her babies, her face very pale, because she knew that she could not reach them in time. All she could do was to hope and pray that someone, _anyone_, could save her babies in time—   
  
Halfway down the slope, the stroller came to a stop, in accompaniment to an extra loud squall from both babies. Honami raced down the slope towards the stroller, nearly weeping in her relief and caught hold of the stroller from its saviour. Her mouth fell open in astonishment.   
  
A sturdy, handsome little boy of about six years old was bracing the stroller on the other side, preventing it from trundling down any further. He had dark hair that was windblown, a little face tanned to a rose-brown by the sun, and eyes of deep, honeyed amber. His face was flushed with exertion, but he gave her a shy little smile.   
  
"Arigatou gozaimasu," murmured Honami with a bow of profuse thanks, smiling with relief all over her pretty face. "Arigatou!"   
  
He ducked his head shyly again. "You're welcome." He glanced at the babies in the stroller. They were looking at him with big, curious green eyes. One baby reached out and tried to grab at him; the other just stared at him with those wide eyes.   
  
"Honami-san?"   
  
Sumeragi Honami looked up at the new arrival and her eyes widened in pleasure. "Suzuki Setsuka-san! Is it really you? I thought you moved abroad years ago, when we were in high school!"   
  
Sakurazaka Setsuka laughed. "Yes, but I came back three years ago. Are these your children?"   
  
"Yes—yes." Honami smiled proudly and then blinked. "Are you—are you two…?"   
  
Setsuka smiled gently as she pulled the little boy close to her. "Yes, this is my son, Sakurazaka Seishirou."   
  
The little boy was still looking at the two babies in the stroller. "I like them," he announced suddenly. "Are we going to be friends?"   
  
The two mothers blinked in astonishment and amusement, and then they both laughed.   
  
"Yes," Honami assured her friend's little son. "Yes, I think my babies would be very happy to have you as their friend, because you saved their lives. I think they will want to know you when they grow older, and I think that you will be a very good friend to them!" She turned to Setsuka with another, more grown-up laugh. "We must exchange numbers and addresses. It's so good to see you again. Why didn't you write to me?"   
  
"I lost your address." Setsuka shook her head. "You know I've always been terribly untidy. I think I lost my address book somewhere in the airport the day I left, but I never went back to claim it. I don't think it's there anymore…"   
  
They strolled off together, exchanging years worth of lost gossip, and little Seishirou trotted gamely by the side of the stroller as the two grown-ups ambled on into the Park.


	3. After The Fact Version 3 Part 2

© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline created by Gold (E-mail: )   
Disclaimer: Ye know eet.   
  
_After The Fact (Version 3.0)   
Part 2: When We Were Young_  
  
It was a cold day in January.   
  
Fourteen-year-old Sakurazaka Seishirou knitted his brows as he studied the advanced calculus problem in front of him. He scanned the rough working on the Palmtop, twirling the electronic pen on his knuckles as he did so.   
  
Someone knocked timidly on the door and Seishirou sighed, and pushed back the dark hair that had fallen into his eyes. He did not bother to look at the tiny, palm sized screen that had popped up and blinked into life on his desk, showing an image of whoever was standing outside his door. Seishirou did not _need_ to look. There was only one person whose knock sounded like that—timid, shy and tentative, as if afraid to bother the person on the other side of the door. "Come in, Subaru-kun," he called patiently, his eyes still on the small screen that showed his homework. (Was the inverse cosine of that angle wrong, perhaps? So many decimal places…or p'raps it was the differentiation of that long equation that was wrong?) "The door's not locked."   
  
The door slid open quietly and a small dark head appeared.   
  
Seishirou looked up with a smile. "Where's the rest of you?" he asked teasingly.   
  
Eight-year-old Sumeragi Subaru coloured as he sidled in slowly. He caught sight of the e-books on Seishirou's desk, and the open Palmtop and pen. He halted, looking dismayed. "Oh-h-h. I didn't know, Seishirou-san…I'm sorry for disturbing you, gomen ne…"   
  
Seishirou's cheerful smile did not waver. "Ah, that's all right. I wasn't doing anything interesting," he said frankly. (Die, calculus, die!) He waved Subaru to a pair of identical cane armchairs with cushioned seats. "Have a seat…" He raised an eyebrow. "But where's Hokuto-chan?"   
  
Usually Subaru's twin sister, Hokuto, visited with him.   
  
Subaru heaved a tremendous sigh for one so small. "She's looking for me right now," he informed Seishirou. "I think she wants me to play a game, but I—"   
  
"_Sei-chaaaaaan!!!_"   
  
Sumeragi Hokuto bounded into the room through the open door and plonked herself into the cane armchair next to Subaru's. At eight years old, she held more energy in her small body than ten Subarus put together. Although the twins were identical in appearance, with unusually fair skin, hair that was black as soot, and brilliant, emerald green eyes set like sparkling jewels in faces as delicate as flowers, Hokuto and Subaru could not have been more different. Hokuto was the madcap one who needed someone to run around after her, just so she wouldn't get into trouble, and it always happened that Seishirou was the one who did the running. Subaru was quieter and it was quite clear that he was the less outgoing, shyer one of the two. Seishirou handled both easily enough. At fourteen, he was the best beloved friend of the eight-year-old Sumeragi twins.   
  
"_Sei-chaaan._" Now Hokuto's voice held a warning note. "You're not wearing the scarf I gave you for your birthday! I made it with my own hands, you know!" She sprang up and put her hands on her hips. "Where is it?"   
  
Seishirou smiled at her with all the charm he could muster. "Hokuto-chan, it isn't a very cold day, and I don't want to perspire into the scarf," he said reasonably. "When I really need it, I promise I'll wear it." (And I hope never. I will not wear that orange-and-blue striped scarf until the day the sky falls down and the mountains crumble into the sea, etc, etc…)   
  
The little girl eyed him suspiciously. "All right," she said, throwing herself back into the chair. She swung her legs to and fro. "Sei-chan, come and play a game with us. I'm bored."   
  
Subaru shook his head at his sister and said softly, "I think Seishirou-san's busy."   
  
"I have homework," explained Seishirou deprecatingly. "Besides, don't you think Subaru-kun's looking a little tired?"   
  
Hokuto turned her head and studied her twin. "I guess so," she said seriously. Then she stuck out her lower lip. "But I'm _bored_."   
  
Seishirou was prepared. After all, he had had eight years of dealing with the Sumeragi twins. "I have an old laptop somewhere on the shelf there," he said, not looking up. "It comes with the Design-and-Draw software—quite old, but it still allows you to draw and colour. Be careful of the pen, though—you have to press hard to get an effect sometimes. You might want to try designing clothes since you like them so much, Hokuto-chan. But you must be very quiet. –And Subaru-kun, the e-book you were reading the last time you came is also on that shelf. And you're going to borrow it home if you can't finish it." This time, Seishirou did look up and he smiled at Subaru. "It's all right if you want to borrow things from me, you know. Just ask."   
  
Subaru nodded, ducked his head and went pink in the face.   
  
Hokuto was already scrabbling for the laptop. "Sei-chan, you are such a _nice_ person to prepare all this for us! I like drawing a lot, and I'm going to have so much fun drawing clothes for Subaru and myself!" She gave a delighted squeal of laughter. "But Sei-chan, you will have to force my brother to take back the book…you know he won't ever ask you for things, 'cause he's just too shy to!"   
  
"Whereas you are not," said Seishirou agreeably. "Have you got the laptop? Subaru-kun, did you find the e-book? Good."   
  
So it was that on a busy afternoon in early January, when it was late in winter, that Sumeragi Hokuto first began to design clothes, a hobby that would bring her twin brother much discomfort and embarrassment, and afford much affectionate amusement for everyone around them.


	4. After The Fact Version 3 Part 3

© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline by Gold (E-mail: )   
Disclaimer: CLAMP drew X/1999 and Tokyo Babylon. CLAMP created those characters. I just took 'em and played with 'em.   
  
This one is for Skuld-chan.   
  
Warning in advance: introduction of familiar names from the past.   
  
_After The Fact (Version 3.0)   
Part 3: Frost On The Sakura_   
  
The Sumeragi twins weren't sure when things began to change. Perhaps it was because Seishirou was growing older; perhaps it was because they were growing older and new people had begun entering their lives. People like Kuzuki Kakyou, Shirou Kamui, Monou Fuuma, Segawa Keiichi, Kishuu Arata and Nekoi Yuzuriha had turned up in their lives and became their new friends. The Sumeragi twins had just entered middle school by then and Hokuto had discovered boys…or perhaps it was the other way round. The same thing happened for Subaru, who was constantly hounded by girls who were not even of his own acquaintance. Naturally, their new friends were all introduced to Seishirou, who acted as something of a vetting procedure and was very impressive, all six foot two of college student. Hokuto and Subaru found themselves frequently being accosted by local high school girls and boys who wanted them to pass such-and-such a thing to Sakurazaka-san or Sakurazaka-sempai, who was the tall, handsome guy with the dark hair, cool tan and amazing smile, and who was far and away one of the hottest guys they had ever seen and a college student to boot, blah, blah, blah…   
  
But Seishirou's smile was rare now and his eyes seemed haunted. There were distinct shadows under those eyes and the twins rarely saw him as they moved higher in middle school and Seishirou became a very senior college student indeed.   
  
"Sei-chan, why don't you come to see us more often?" asked Hokuto sternly one sunny afternoon, on the rare occasion that she and Subaru managed to force Seishirou to spend a day with them.   
  
This day, they were picnicking at Ueno Park, near the very spot where Seishirou had saved their lives some fourteen years ago. Seishirou, for some obscure, unexplained reason, had chosen as their picnic site a sakura tree that was large and ponderous with age. Its trunk and branches were old and gnarled, but had the distinctive quality of majesty befitting something so ancient and beautiful. Rumour had it that this tree was thousands of years old. Now they were seated under the branches, sakura petals and green leaves falling all round them at the slightest breath of a passing breeze.   
  
Seishirou was leaning comfortably against the trunk, occasionally turning to rest one cheek against it in a gesture of near affection. "Homework," he answered briefly as he reached for the flask of hot tea.   
  
The tone of his voice brooked an end to the discussion and there was a little silence. Then a quiet voice broke it.   
  
"Seishirou-san…are you—are you sleeping well?"   
  
Seishirou blinked in surprise and risked a quick glance at Subaru, whose anxious green eyes were fixed disconcertingly on his face. "Sleeping well?" echoed Seishirou stupidly.   
  
Subaru flushed under the glance, but kept his eyes on Seishirou, who was now looking everywhere but at him. "Your roommate, Kigai-san…he said you were still having nightmares…and—and you have shadows under your eyes…"   
  
Seishirou's jaw hardened slightly and one hand, the hand that could not be seen by Subaru or Hokuto, curled into a tight fist, the bones of the knuckles blazing white as the hand lay hidden amidst the green grass. But he did not answer.   
  
Hokuto peered at Seishirou. "It's more than that," she said decisively. She put her head on one side and eyed him speculatively. Then she clapped her hands suddenly, exclaiming, "Aha! You're interested in _someone_, aren't you? And now you're too busy to come and see Subaru and me! Look at the way you're moping! Oh, I always knew the day would come when you'd abandon us for—"   
  
Seishirou frowned a little, cutting her off. "Nonsense, Hokuto-chan." He carefully poured himself a cup of tea. Then he swiftly turned the tables. It was a skill he still possessed, after a thousand-odd years…"On the other hand, I hear you're becoming _very_ good friends with Kuzuki Kakyou." He looked at Hokuto, amber-golden eyes stern. "You're still too young to date and I'm going to see Kuzuki-san if I find out he's been seeing you on the sly." A sudden smile twitched at his lips as he waited for Hokuto to respond.   
  
Hokuto did not disappoint, folding her arms and glared at Seishirou's smiling face. "My parents won't let me date until I'm sixteen and I've two more years to go, and I don't need you to remind me, Sei-chan." A suddenly sly smile appeared on her pretty face and her eyes lit up with a wicked gleam. "In the meantime, I feel it my duty, Sei-chan, to find you a girlfriend or boyfriend, whichever you prefer!" She wiggled her eyebrows. "Since you swear you have none, and you're getting old, I, as your closest female friend, have a duty to find you one!"   
  
"Ah," murmured Seishirou, raising his eyebrows comically. "Oh, dear me."   
  
Hokuto ignored him. "And the first candidate is none other than Subaru!" she proclaimed in clarion tones, shooting one arm out and collaring her brother.   
  
"H-h-hokuto-_chan_!!!" cried Subaru, turning several shades of red all at once before settling on a bright, very visible tomato red.   
  
Hokuto merely looked at her furiously blushing brother with mischief shining in her eyes. "Well, I know for a fact that you think Sei-chan is absolutely gorgeous and the most wonderful person in the whole, wide world!" she announced, still keeping a firm hold on the struggling Subaru. She flashed a wide grin at Sei-chan. "Well? What do you think?"   
  
Seishirou's brief laugh was strangely bittersweet. "Hokuto-chan…you never change, do you?"   
  
Startled, Hokuto blinked and released Subaru. She had never heard Seishirou use that slightly brittle tone of voice before. She leaned forward suddenly, almost pushing her nose into his cup of tea. For the first time, she regarded him seriously. "Sei-chan, what's wrong?"   
  
Seishirou jerked back and nearly spilt his tea. "Nothing," he said sharply, suddenly and unreasonably afraid that he would hurt her. His grip on the harmless teacup tightened as he pressed himself back against the tree.   
  
"Seishirou-san…those dreams are bothering you, aren't they?" said Subaru suddenly, forgetting the intensity of his embarrassment. "I know you haven't been sleeping well—you look tired out," he ended quietly, eyes wide and filled with anxiety.   
  
"It's just the homework," Seishirou answered softly, glancing quickly at Subaru and then looking away. "Look, let's not talk about this anymore, please." He leaned back against the tree again, tilting back his head to look up into the branches.   
  
Subaru stared at the older boy, wondering why it seemed so right to see Seishirou under a sakura tree, petals blowing all around him. He also wondered why the sight seemed to hurt so much and so deeply, like an ancient, poignantly familiar ache. True, he did have a bit of a crush on Seishirou—he always had—but it didn't square with the depth of the almost despairing emotion that twisted inside him whenever he looked at the handsome, black-haired, amber-eyed youth, sitting under the sakura tree, surrounded by tiny, floating pink petals on the breeze.   
  
There was something very familiar and heartrending about that picture…   
  
Then Seishirou-san turned around with that dear smile of his, and it seemed that everything was all right, except for the twinge at Subaru's heart, that wouldn't go away…


	5. After The Fact Version 3 Part 4

© 2002 Copyright by Gold (E-mail: )   
Disclaimer: You know it.   
  
This one's for Mikuro. Enter Monou Fuuma and a bit of a complication. Also for Shi and for Skuld-chan.   
  
Hope everyone had a merry Christmas.   
  
_After The Fact (Version 3.0)   
Part 4: The Other Soul_   
  
Monou Kotori, straw carrier in hand and a picnic basket over one arm, came to a sudden stop just inside the kitchen. Her older brother was standing quietly in the living room, his lithe, lean frame resting against the wall by the front door. There was a large picnic hamper balancing on top of the shoe rack, and a big cooler on the floor next to the tall boy. His back was to her so that his face could not be seen. But he had forgotten the sliding doors not far off. In the brown-tinted glass, Kotori saw her older brother's face reflected, and it was all she could do not to drop the carrier (with its two Thermos flasks of hot tea and chocolate) and the picnic basket. In all her fifteen years, she had never seen him look like that, head bowed, eyes shut so tightly that there were lines at the corners of his eyes, the very line of his nose and chin taut with a nameless grief and misery.   
  
The misery Kotori thought she could understand—but the grief? Her face grew sad. He had changed so much over the past year. But she knew that she could never get him to talk about it. So instead, she deliberately stamped her feet, as if just coming into the living room, and put on a bright face.   
  
"Onii-chan, sorry to keep you waiting!"   
  
Monou Fuuma gave his sister a quick smile. "It's all right, Kotori-chan. Come on; we're almost late." He picked up the cooler and the hamper, and they set off.   
  
As the brother and sister hurried along, Kotori glanced swiftly at her older brother, who was whistling a little tune. Her eyes narrowed as she recognised the tune. For a moment, she wondered whether she should speak to him about it. Well, a trouble shared is a trouble halved…and he was her brother, after all. "Onii-chan?"   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"Is anything wrong?" asked Kotori cautiously. "You never whistle that tune unless there's something wrong." She swallowed, and risked a stab in the dark. "Has it got anything to do with Kamui-chan?"   
  
Fuuma immediately stopped whistling. "No," he said, lying through his teeth. "I was just thinking of some nightmares I had lately, that's all," he added truthfully.   
  
Kotori's little face grew grave as she glanced at her older brother. "Are you still having them, then? I thought—it's been a year now, nearly—surely there's some reason for it—maybe you should see a doctor?"   
  
Her big brother had been having nightmares since he was sixteen and it showed no sign of abating although it was nearly a year since they had begun. They had started on the night of his sixteenth birthday and visited him at least twice a week. Kotori clearly remembered her brother's tortured cries from that first night—she had never heard her brother scream until then—and he had called out names in his sleep—hers and Kamui's. He had cried out their names in desperate, half-choked tones, over and over again, and sometimes, as the months went by, Kotori would hear him crying bitterly in his sleep. At first she had considered moving her room to the end of the floor, so that she could get more sleep, on their parents' advice, but after one week, she had moved back to the room next to her older brother's so that she could wake him when his nightmares woke her, and perhaps that way, they'd both get enough sleep.   
  
But since the advent of those nightmares, Fuuma had become rather more silent and withdrawn. Kotori noticed that he now spent more time alone, rather than with Shirou Kamui, who was their best friend and sandwiched between the brother and sister in age, and who more or less worshipped Fuuma. Consequently, Kamui had drifted apart from them, and he was now very close to the Sumeragi twins, especially Subaru, the male twin, who rather reminded Kotori of an older version of Kamui at times. Part of the reason why Kamui had become so close to the twins was because he and Fuuma had fallen out over no apparent reason some six months ago, and their relations were frosty to the extreme.   
  
Fuuma knew exactly where Kotori's thoughts were. "No need for a doctor," he answered calmly and automatically; he and Kotori had been through this conversation too many times, and Fuuma knew quite well that no doctor on this Earth could help him. With ease of practise, he changed the subject. "So—did Segawa-san ask you to this year's senior formal?"   
  
Kotori blushed quickly. "Yes," she admitted shyly. She threw another quick glance at Fuuma, who had a curious look on his face. "Onii-chan?"   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"Are you—are you asking anyone to the dance?" Kotori asked hopefully. She could think of several of her schoolmates—male and female!—who would leap at such an invitation. One boy in particular…well, she didn't know for sure, but she certainly had a very strong suspicion…ever since the day Kamui-chan had apologised for not returning her feelings for him…   
  
Fuuma shrugged. "No. Not interested." He hesitated before adding briefly, "I may not be going to the dance."   
  
Kotori's eyes widened in dismay. "Not going! But onii-chan, it's your senior year! Why? It's your _prom_!"   
  
Fuuma shrugged again. "It doesn't really matter to me. You can take lots of pictures for me, so I won't be missing anything." He smiled faintly. "Don't look so stricken, Kotori-chan. I don't really want to go to the formal."   
  
"But if you're not going, then who's Kamui going to go with?" blurted Kotori.   
  
Her older brother flung her a startled glance. "Kamui?" he repeated. He gave a careless shrug of his shoulders. "With Subaru, of course!"   
  
"Of course?" mumbled Kotori dumbly. "What do you mean, _of course_?"   
  
Fuuma gave his younger sister a cool look. "It means Subaru will ask Kamui to the dance with him, and Kamui will say yes," he stated dispassionately.   
  
Kotori stopped walking and turned to her older brother. "Subaru-san's asking Kamui-chan…I'm not…onii-chan, _what_ are you talking about? It isn't Kamui-chan Subaru-san likes, it's—"   
  
"Sakurazuka-sempai. I know."   
  
"Sakuraz**_a_**ka-sempai," corrected Kotori a little more sharply than she had intended to. She shook her head. "I don't understand why you're always calling him Sakurazuka-sempai—the two words are quite different, you know."   
  
"Yes," replied Fuuma, and he did know. Cherry blossom hill—and _cherry blossom grave_…   
  
Kotori sighed. "Onii-chan—if there's anything going on, please tell me."   
  
"What could be going on?" asked Fuuma reasonably.   
  
His younger sister gave him a troubled look. "I don't know. I'm asking you," she pointed out. "I just have this feeling that there's something really strange going on and I can't put my finger on it. But—there, now, you've distracted me. Onii-chan, why won't you make up with Kamui? I know you've been avoiding him—"   
  
Fuuma's face hardened and he glanced at his watch. He cut Kotori off abruptly. "I haven't been avoiding him. Look, I don't want to talk about this, please."   
  
Kotori obediently started chattering about something else. When onii-chan used _that_ tone of voice, it meant that she had better skirt the issue, and she usually did, out of habit. Besides, it was too beautiful a day to argue, and perhaps it wasn't time to confront her older brother on the issue yet…maybe later. Perhaps later, when they met Kamui face to face, her brother and their best friend would talk.   
  
She could still hope.

_Author's Notes: Right. So I just decided to lump Segawa Keiichi and Monou Kotori together. Why? Well, Keiichi's a steady, cheerful, really good sort of guy. And Kotori strikes me as a gentle, pretty, sweet little maiden, and very suited to him. That's my little flight of imagination. I think they'd be happy together...and I don't want Kotori or Keiichi to be alone._


	6. After The Fact Version 3 Part 5

© Copyright 2002 Original Storyline by Gold (E-mail: )   
  
Disclaimer: If I were CLAMP, I'd know how X/1999 ends. No such luck, though.   
  
For Mikuro-san, my good friend, in the hopes that he will still love me to death despite this chapter.   
  
For Skuld-chan, who wants some angst, but didn't specify _who_.   
  
For Shi, who has been a v. faithful reviewer.   
  
For Aishuu, whom I hope is churning out the next part of _Nyctalopia_... and I really hope I've got the spelling right.   
  
In Berlin, there is a famous street, lined on both sides with linden trees, called Unter den Linden, or Under the Lindens, in English.   
  
_After The Fact (Version 3.0)   
Part 5: Unter den Sakura_   
  
It was that time of the year again, when the sakura were in full bloom. Over a thousand years ago, when earthquakes had ravaged Tokyo's streets and buildings, the process of rebuilding the city had begun with the planting of a thousand cherry trees all over the city, with two hundred trees planted in what remained of Ueno Park, to add to the five or so cherry trees that had survived the earthquakes. In this way, one year on in the spring, even if the city had not been completely rebuilt, at least the cherry blossoms would come to Tokyo as they always did. No city in Japan could be without the one flower that universally symbolised the people.   
  
And it was that time of the year again, when they gathered to admire the sakura, picnic under cherry trees, and compose poems and odes to the floral beauty, several with puns about cherry tree hills—Sakuraz**_a_**ka.   
  
Monou Fuuma drew a shallow breath as he silently looked around him, at those of the party he belonged to. They could not see what he did…   
  
…not the seventeen-year-old twins, with their sooty-black hair and happy faces, but a sixteen-year-old girl twirling, as he had seen her more than a thousand years ago, in the dream panels of a youth who had loved her; and a thin-faced, haunted-looking twenty-five-year-old young man, clad all in black, with a white trenchcoat fluttering around him, one eye a bitter, dark green, one eye pure white…   
  
…not the nineteen-year-old youth with fair hair cut in an attractive, asymmetric fringe sweeping over a spiritual-looking face, but a young man, looking little more than a boy, with that same fair hair spilling over his shoulders, dressed in loose white robes with a neckline swooping down to his chest, eyes and face fixed in a look of utter despair, his only company the visions of death and destruction in the dreamland he inhabited…   
  
…not the bright-faced fifteen-year-old girl who was his sister's best friend, but another girl, just fourteen, also bright-faced, but with a hidden power that had marked her as one of the fourteen most spiritually-powerful people in Japan, and a dog-spirit by her side—former inugami-mistress she had been…   
  
…so many others, so ordinary-looking, so happy—   
  
And behind them all, Monou Fuuma saw, if only briefly, the glimpse of what they had been a thousand years and more ago, children bound to a destiny foreordained. But look at them now!   
  
There were Kigai Yuuto and Shiyu Kusanagi, who were good friends of Sakurazaka Seishirou and Kuzumi Kakyou respectively. Yuuto and Seishirou had been at high school and college together, and had graduated the previous year. They were now architects in the well-known firm belonging to Yuuto's father. Yuuto had brought his girlfriend along: Yatouji Satsuki, aged twenty, and coincidentally a very good friend of a certain Kishuu Arashi, a good friend of the Sumeragis. Shiyu Kusanagi, on the other hand, was a little younger than Yuuto and Seishirou; around Satsuki's age. He was studying to be a veterinarian. And he was waiting for fifteen-year-old Nekoi Yuzuriha, Monou Kotori's best friend and classmate, to grow up.   
  
The lines of fate, it seemed, held strong and sure.   
  
And sometimes Fuuma didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, because everything seemed so surreal. Sometimes it was so hard to see them as anything other than what they had been in their past lifetimes; at other times, he could see them just as they were, ordinary human beings, being—ordinary. Kusanagi being a veterinarian and Seishirou and Yuuto being architects…the whole thing was just so…cosmically appropriate.   
  
And then Fuuma stiffened, because he caught someone else's eye, and his heart bounded up, seemed to choke itself in his throat, and then just burned inside him, and the smile wiped itself off his face in a flash…   
  
…because Shirou Kamui was looking at him, with those enormous eyes of soft purple-violet, dusted with black lashes, and oh, the look in those eyes hadn't changed over the past thousand years or so.   
  
_Not for a thousand years…_   
  
…Fuuma felt himself go very pale, and the world seemed to go dark before him. Was that the sky darkening? A strong wind howling through the world, unblocked by tall buildings that had collapsed? Was the world ending again—? He could hear nothing but the wind, in a sky mockingly bright for a Day that had ended in broken hearts and bleeding, mortal wounds, in words of truth spoken for the first time, and secrets unleashed, in sharp blades that burned white-hot as they sliced through yielding flesh, and thus ensured the rebirth of the Earth as well as the survival of mankind at one shot—_o, ye gods above_—   
  
"Monou-kun."   
  
Fuuma straightened, breathing heavily, and looked up into deep amber eyes.   
  
Sakurazuka—no, Sakuraz**_a_**ka Seishirou had a hand lightly placed on his shoulder and was standing in front of him, gazing down.   
  
With a sudden shock, Fuuma's eyes widened.   
  
There were shadows under the weary amber eyes, and a haunted look in the depths of those same eyes, that spoke of a knowledge…a knowledge of a thousand years back.   
  
He was looking at Seishirou with new eyes now.   
  
Seishirou regarded him expressionlessly, dropping the hand from Fuuma's shoulder. "Ice-cream goes with memories."   
  
Fuuma's eyes narrowed a little. "There's a parlour I know," he answered coolly, nonchalantly, much as he had been wont to do in the old days. But he could not smile like he used to.   
  
Seishirou held out a hand, palm upturned. He did not look at Fuuma, but stared steadily at his hand as sakura petals floated down, caressing the palm. "Tomorrow."   
  
"Tomorrow," agreed Fuuma quietly.   
  
He did not notice that Shirou Kamui was watching them with eyes like wet, bleeding violets, and a face as white as paper.   
  
_Author's Notes: What a tangled web we weave...never thought I'd enjoy writing hints of Subaru/Kamui and Fuuma/Seishirou. Wonder whether I can do a Seishirou/Kamui...hrmmm.... No, I don't think so. My stomach just recoiled at the thought, and I think I see an angry Mikuro-san running after me..._


	7. After The Fact Version 3 Part 6

© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline by Gold (E-mail: )   
  
Disclaimer: By nationality I'm not CLAMP. I rest my case.   
  
This is a story that's really nothing more than an angsty romance, which is why I don't like it. X usually needs amounts of darkness...there really is none here.   
  
_After The Fact (Version 3.0)   
Part 6: Tale As Old As Time_   
  
It was really a very peaceful day. The soft murmur of conversation mixed with laughter, the clink of teacups and exclamations over the taste of the food.   
  
"More tea, please."   
  
"This is good—try some. I made it just this morning; it's very fresh."   
  
"Does anybody want this last piece?"   
  
"Your turn next to do a _haiku_."   
  
"The sakura are particularly beautiful this year. See—that tree has blossoms that are almost pure white—almost, but not quite."   
  
And then—   
  
"Do you know why the flowers are pink?"   
  
The cup fell from Monou Fuuma's hand. It landed safely on the grass, unbroken, but the tea in it had spilt.   
  
"There is a legend that tells why the sakura is pink."   
  
Sumeragi Hokuto pounced on the speaker. "Sei-chan! You know the story?"   
  
Sakurazaka Seishirou's eyes were closed, and sakura-laden branches over his head scattered soft petals as the breeze blew. "It's not a story I care to remember. And it was a long time ago."   
  
"Then it must be a love story!" decided Hokuto. "I love romances!" She clasped her hands and leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "So, Seeeeeeiiiii-chan…is there love in this story?" she teased. "A _lot_ of love?"   
  
Seishirou gave her a forced smile. "Yes."   
  
"Good. Then tell us," commanded Hokuto, settling herself comfortably against Kakyou. "It'll be a sight to remember, to see Sei-chan telling us a love story!" She giggled and shot a sly glance at her brother, who was blushing very hard and trying to hide his face in the ice-filled cooler. "And I'm sure Subaru would like to hear it too—"   
  
Seishirou suddenly stiffened. "It's not a story I care to remember," he said coolly. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and drew his brows together in a puzzled frown. Then he looked up sharply.   
  
Hokuto was bouncing a packet of cigarettes up and down on the palm of one slender hand. "I took them from your pocket," she informed him. "You're not supposed to be smoking, Sei-chan. It's bad for your health. Now tell us the story. After all, _you_ brought it up. Why are the sakura pink?"   
  
Seishirou's eyes were calm and distant as he faced her. "There are bodies buried beneath the sakura tree, and the blood makes the petals pink."   
  
Nekoi Yuzuriha gave a small scream and shifted about slightly, but Hokuto only sat up straighter.   
  
"It's just a legend," she said in her loud, cheerful voice. "Don't mind Sei-chan; when he tells a story, he _really_ knows how to tell one. And if you're scared, just cuddle up to Shiyu-san!" She grinned at the blushing faces of Yuzuriha and Shiyu Kusanagi. "Go on, Sei-chan—and mind you get to the love part quickly!"   
  
"There are no more bodies buried under this tree," Seishirou said gently, looking at Yuzuriha. "The story I'm telling happened more than a thousand years ago, before the earthquakes, when there was still magic in this world." He drew a deep breath.   
  
"In Ueno Park a thousand years ago, the largest, most beautiful sakura tree here was a guardian of the Balance, a part of the Balance that keeps the world going. It was a centre of the most powerful dark onmyoujitsu in all of Japan, and it absorbed the powers from the souls of evil-doers, before releasing the souls onwards to face judgment in the afterlife."   
  
Yatouji Satsuki lifted an eyebrow. "I think I can see where this is going. Let me guess. The tree manifested in spirit form and haunted Tokyo, hunting—"   
  
"No." Seishirou cut her off. "Nothing quite like that. The Sakura Tree had a Guardian, a mortal man who did the hunting, and killed those who practised the black arts indiscriminately. Being a Guardian of such a powerful ancient Tree meant that he was gifted with extraordinary powers. He was an _onmyouji_, and the most powerful of those who used dark onmyoujitsu. But the way he killed was special only to the Guardian of the Tree." Seishirou gave an ironic little smile. "The Guardian killed by driving his fist through the heart of the living body." Seishirou clenched his left fist and looked down at it as if it was stained with blood. "The bodies were always buried beneath the Tree. The Tree fed on the bodies. No different from fertiliser." He added quite calmly, "The Guardians of the Tree could never feel emotions—they had no feelings."   
  
"But Sei-chan, that's horrible," wailed Hokuto. "How can anyone—how can anyone just _kill_ like that, and someone with absolutely no feelings either—"   
  
There was a brief flash of pain in Seishirou's eyes. "You can't—unless you are trained from childhood. And no Sakura—" he bit his lip and corrected himself—"no _Guardian_ can feel emotions—they lock away their emotions, because it is their _duty_ to kill." He drew a deep, shuddering breath. "If they didn't lock away emotions, Hokuto-chan, they ended up mad. That, in the end, was to be their fate, because _though there may be deeds irreparable in this world, there is no such thing as a person who is unable to love_. Love…is a very strong, very passionate emotion."   
  
There was a little silence.   
  
"What happened next?" Hokuto asked finally, a little subdued.   
  
Seishirou's voice softened. "When one of the Guardians was a young man, he fell in love with someone he could never have—a teenage boy from a family sworn to oppose the Guardians of the Tree until the end of Time."   
  
"Aha!" Hokuto brightened immediately. "And the boy loved him!" she cheered. "Right?"   
  
Seishirou's lips curved into a mirthless smile. "Right you are, Hokuto-chan, but the Guardian broke the boy's heart—"   
  
"_What?_ How?"   
  
"There was a bet…and the stake was the boy's death at the hands of the Guardian…but the boy's sister, who looked very much like him, died for him instead. And—so, the boy hated the Guardian…" Seishirou's voice trailed off as he shut his eyes.   
  
There was a long silence.   
  
"Is that all?" asked someone softly, breaking it finally.   
  
"No…" murmured Seishirou, his eyes still closed. "The boy was broken because the Guardian had told the boy he did not love him—and because the Guardian had killed his sister—and because for one year, the Guardian had been playacting that he cared for the boy and his sister…"   
  
"Had he?" asked Hokuto quietly.   
  
Seishirou opened his eyes and sighed briefly. "At the beginning, perhaps. But he did love the boy, and he didn't know it. So…nine years later, the Guardian met up with the one he loved, who had become a man. A broken man, who hated him, and had waited nine years to grow strong enough to hunt him down and avenge the death of his sister…" Seishirou's voice shook a little. He stopped, unable to say anymore.   
  
"And the Guardian mistakenly believed that the one he loved wanted nothing more than to kill him, in order to avenge the death of the sister. So the Guardian killed himself."   
  
Umpteen pairs of eyes swung round to look at the new speaker.   
  
Monou Fuuma met the surprised looks equably.   
  
"The Guardian _killed_ himself?" blurted Hokuto.   
  
Seishirou's voice was sharp and abrupt. "Yes." He hurled a fierce glance at Fuuma.   
  
"But Monou-san just said—it was a mistake—why—" began Hokuto.   
  
"No mistake about it," answered Seishirou in a hard voice. "The one he loved…was too kind, too gentle to be able to kill anyone, and the Guardian knew that…so he did it—for the other…" His jaw was set and the sunlight seemed to glitter in his eyes.   
  
There was a silence.   
  
Then Subaru spoke very quietly. "But the one he loved didn't want to see him die."   
  
Seishirou stiffened and threw a hard, sharp glance at Subaru. "Why do you say that?"   
  
Subaru blushed, but met Seishirou's eyes bravely. "If—if he had loved the Guardian—really loved him, he wouldn't have wanted him dead, even if he hated him…" he said softly. "And I think he still loved the Guardian…"   
  
"Except," said Seishirou with a bitter smile that somehow managed to cut straight into Subaru's heart, "that by then, the Guardian did not believe that the other man could still love him."   
  
"Subaru-san is right," said Fuuma unexpectedly, "and the Guardian was wrong. The other man loved him still."   
  
Seishirou's smile was still unexpectedly bitter, but also resigned. "Yes, but the Guardian did not know that." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter anymore. It was a long time ago—a very long time ago."   
  
Kigai Yuuto stirred, carelessly pushing back blond strands of hair. "How did you know about this story—you and Monou-san?"   
  
Seishirou shrugged nonchalantly. "Old legend I heard someone tell once."   
  
Yuuto glanced at Monou Fuuma.   
  
"I read it somewhere," Fuuma answered. "Or else I heard it told. Can't remember, exactly."   
  
Hokuto's eyes were narrow as she eyed first Seishirou and then Fuuma. "I have this feeling that both of you know a lot more than you're telling us," she observed accusingly.   
  
Seishirou gestured impatiently. "There's more to the story," he said irritably, "but that's all you really need to know. These old legends are always—always very long and complicated."   
  
Hokuto frowned. "Yes, but this one—hmm. There's something I don't understand. Why did he kill the sister, if he really loved the boy?"   
  
Seishirou ran his fingers through the short grass. He did not look up. "I think he had to prove to himself that he did not care for the boy…that he did not mind doing things that would break the boy's heart…" He flicked a sakura petal off one of his pant legs. "Let's not talk about this anymore, Hokuto-chan. As I said, it's not a story I care to remember."   
  
Someone—Nekoi Yuzuriha—promptly began to chatter about another subject, and the others joined in, slowly at first, affected by the grave atmosphere, but then with growing enthusiasm. But Sumeragi Subaru was not one of them; his eyes were resting on a certain handsome young man with a strong, dear face, and kind, tired eyes of deep amber.   
  
Across from him, the man who had been Sakurazuka Seishirou a thousand years ago wearily tuned out the voices around him and leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes. A gentle breeze shook the sakura-laden branches above him as pink petals drifted downwards.   
  
And the heart of the teenage boy with the sooty-black hair and emerald-green eyes watching the man, was completely lost to him, as it had been once before, a long time ago.   
  
_Author's Notes:   
Well! I belong to the school that believes Sakurazuka Seishirou really did love Sumeragi Subaru, and I think that it is highly likely he killed Hokuto for reasons which will be revealed soon.   
_


	8. After The Fact Version 3 Part 7

© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline by Gold (E-mail: )   
  
Disclaimer: -- I am one woman. CLAMP is/are four women. This is not for profit or commercial anything.   
  
Another day, another chapter, another tired me. The time now is 12 midnight where I am, more or less.   
  
This one's for Skuld-chan and Mikuro-san, for reasons obvious. Angst and Kamui.   
  
This chapter feels a bit choppy to me...blame it on lack of sleep.   
  
_After The Fact (Version 3.0)   
Part 7: Tangled_   
  
Shirou Kamui glanced at his friend. If Subaru had succeeded, maybe he could—get up the courage—to talk to—Fuuma—but Subaru's face told Kamui that things had not gone well at all. The older boy was trying hard to hide his disappointment, but the droop of his shoulders and the quiet wistfulness in the set of his mouth gave him away. Kamui didn't know what to say.   
  
Subaru was looking anywhere but at Kamui. "He didn't want to go at all," he said quietly. "Onee-chan teased him about it…she was testing the waters for me, though I didn't ask her to do so—but then I didn't dare to ask him…and he got really annoyed with her…" Subaru studied nothing in particular with a very hard look of concentration on his face. "Onee-chan thinks he cares, but I don't think so…I don't think so…" He clenched his fists tightly and fell silent.   
  
Kamui looked away. They were in the same boat, the two of them; Subaru had been having the biggest crush on Sakurazaka-sempai for the longest time, a crush that seemed to get bigger with each passing year; Kamui had been having very special feelings about his best friend, Monou Fuuma, and had only realised why of late. But Fuuma had grown strangely distant and Kamui, afraid that he might be reading too much or too little into things, hadn't known how to approach his best friend on the subject. He had tried, though, but he hadn't gone about it in a tactful manner, and the brashness of his manner had driven Fuuma to lose _his_ temper—and consequently frozen their relations to the point of no return. And lately, it seemed as if—as if Seishirou…   
  
"Did Monou-san ask you…?" said Subaru abruptly.   
  
Kamui instantly jumped and then scowled. "Ask me?" He looked down bitterly. "We aren't talking anymore. I can't ever find him when I want to—when I have time to—and you know we don't see each other in school. I wish he'd _tell_ me what's wrong, instead of treating me like a stranger! I'm supposed to be his best friend!" Kamui took a deep breath. "I don't blame him—the quarrel was as much my fault as his, but I'm not stupid. I _know_ he's avoiding me and he doesn't want to talk to me, and…" Kamui bit his lip. "I miss him," he admitted, feeling suddenly deflated.   
  
Subaru drew a deep breath. "I know. Seishirou-san—" Subaru blushed every time he spoke the other's name—"makes me feel the same way sometimes. And then at other times, he's—he's—he's just…" Subaru's voice trailed off and the flush in his cheeks deepened. "I think he knows how I feel about him, and he's just trying to let me know he doesn't care for me that way…"   
  
Kamui shook his head. "Hokuto-chan says Sakurazaka-sempai likes you too, and I think she's probably right," he protested. "I mean, she's not wrong about these sort of things—you said so yourself. And he definitely doesn't treat you the way Fuuma's been treating me."   
  
Subaru shrugged. "There's always a first time…and Seishirou-san's not like ordinary people." He bit back a sigh.   
  
"You…really like him a lot, don't you?" ventured Kamui.   
  
Subaru's silence was eloquent.   
  
For himself, Subaru wouldn't have used the word "like" to describe the way he felt about Sakurazaka Seishirou. Subaru had had a crush on Seishirou for some years now, and now that he was seventeen and old enough to know, he feared—he very much feared—that "like" was a very mild word used in his case. Subaru didn't like to put that thought into words; it frightened him that he might—might just "like" Seishirou a lot more than he let on to other people. Hokuto, of course, had been born with the habit of piercing through every one of Subaru's careful veils, and had informed him, at the tender age of fifteen, that he was head over heels _in love_ with Sei-chan. It had taken Subaru a couple more years to admit that she might be right.   
  
Subaru glanced briefly at Kamui. The boy was a year below him, at sixteen; he had a well-hidden and enormous crush on Monou Fuuma, who was in Subaru's year. Kamui and Fuuma's relationship reminded Subaru very forcibly of his and Seishirou's at times—but only at times.   
  
Kamui and Fuuma had been practically best friends almost forever, and they were neighbours as well. Kamui quite obviously adored the older, wiser Fuuma, who was very good to him, and the high school hallways had rung with feverish speculation when the two boys abruptly went from being best buddies to complete strangers in one day. Nobody could understand this peculiar change in the weather, so to speak, and even Monou Kotori's efforts to draw the two closer together met with abject failure. This was largely Fuuma's fault, because he was never there when Kamui sought him out to apologise, and when he was there, Kamui was somewhere at the other end of the school, busy elsewhere. It was almost as if Fuuma was deliberately avoiding his friend, and Kamui came to recognise after a while that there was nothing he could do about it.   
  
"Subaru," interrupted Kamui suddenly and thickly.   
  
Subaru blinked. "What?"   
  
Kamui took a deep breath and wrapped his hands together as he stared fixedly at the polished floor. He dug his toes into the thick rug at his feet. "I think—I think Fuuma likes Sakurazaka-sempai," he mumbled.   
  
If Kamui had announced that he was really a boy born with immense supernatural powers and destined to break or make the world, Subaru could not have been more astonished.   
  
"It's just—last week—at the picnic—they were talking," Kamui went on miserably. "And I've never seen them like that before—it's as if Fuuma—something changed that day, there's something between them—I'm not sure what it is, but…I do think he likes him…" He kept his head bowed so that Subaru would not see his face. "He won't even talk to me anymore… but he'll—he'll talk to Sakurazaka-sempai…I…"   
  
A sudden chorus of barks drew the two boys' attention as a very wide-awake little brown terrier suddenly raced into the room, ran up to Kamui and frolicked about the boy's jean-clad legs. Kamui's face softened all at once as he knelt down and the dog sprang into his arms and licked his face. The boy scratched its head, a wistful smile edging his lips, and he shut his eyes tightly as he held the dog tightly to him. This was the dog Fuuma had given him for his tenth birthday, back when they were still small boys and best friends playing in the park near their homes…back when Fuuma had been Fuuma.   
  
And Subaru, who had been watching his friend quietly, spoke suddenly. "Kamui, want to go to the dance with me?" he asked flippantly.   
  
Kamui lifted his head, stunned.   
  
Subaru gave him a brief smile. "You know you want to be there. Not with me, maybe, but…" He shrugged. "It's a senior dance and I know you can't go without an invitation from a senior. And if Fuuma-san's going to be there, I know you'll want to be there. So…what about it?"


	9. After The Fact Version 3 Part 8

© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline by Gold   
Disclaimer: I can't read Japanese kanji.   
  
Tokyo Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan is a famous museum somewhere in Ueno Park, and it has an enormous collection of Japanese antiques, art pieces and other historical items of interest. And no, I haven't any idea whether Tokyo Tower faces north, south, east or west, or if this museum faces any part of Tokyo Tower.   
  
_After The Fact (Version 3.0)   
Part 8: Walk Away_   
  
This exhibition was huge. It spanned several rooms in the new Tokyo Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan and was the most popular exhibit there. In those rooms were bits and pieces of life as it had been a thousand and more years ago, just before the earthquakes and floods savaged Tokyo and laid the city to waste. Archaeologists, historians and survivors of the last millenium's greatest cataclysm had worked together while the city was being restored, to pick up what remained of their past, and preserve it. The Japanese are a people who consider themselves a race and a culture all their own, and in them is a fierce pride in their history and their nation. They will not destroy bits of their culture simply to make way for modernity. If they can, they will preserve it, if only in museums, and they will try their best to ensure that future generations do not forget. So it is that every citizen of Tokyo knows about the earthquakes and floods that nearly destroyed Tokyo forever; legends have arisen around it, and those legends always talk about how Tokyo Tower was the final building to collapse. Strangely, many of these tales hint that a spiritual battle had been fought over Tokyo; eyewitness reports mentioned seeing two figures standing at Tokyo Tower, each bearing a long sword. But that was over a thousand years ago. In this millennium, there are no such things as spirits anymore, or magic, and supernatural occurrences trouble Tokyo no more.   
  
The tall, handsome dark-haired boy was the only one in the room who remained staring at the glass case that was the centrepiece of the entire exhibition. He had made a direct beeline for it as soon as he stepped into the room, and he remained looking at it although other visitors had already looked their fill at it and left. The case was a horizontal glass-topped one, made of some shiny metal, and lined with cream-coloured velvet. Against the velvet lay two sword hilts, and several broken pieces of black-stained metal artistically arranged around the hilts. The hilts were bare, and so were the tiny pieces of metal, but once upon a time, there had been writing on those hilts, and on the blades.   
  
Monou Fuuma silently read through the scanty information on the screen by the side of the case. _Found in remains of old Tokyo Tower_, it said. _Gives lie to the legend…spiritual battle…swords once…no one has been able to put them together…the pieces mysteriously resist any attempts to glue them together, or forge them together…_That was because the battle was over. The Shinken had completed the tasks they had been born to do, and there was no more need of them.   
  
Fuuma drew a deep, shaky breath. This was the only the tenth time he had been here and every instinct of his was screaming. He wanted to run, far, far from the broken swords, and the sight of the blood on the metal, now darkened to black. _Swords cannot be cleaned, nor can the blood be analysed…unable to remove…_His blood and Kamui's blood were on those swords.   
  
The memories crashed back every time he stood in front of that glass case. The first time he had seen those swords, he had suffered a massive headache. That was several years back. He had not come to this part of the museum, irrationally fearing to have that same headache—he had come to associate the swords with headaches! But now he had come back to see the swords over the months. The headache did not strike him; instead, the nightmares had come back, in broad daylight. He had rushed wildly from the room the second time he came, because he had not been able to take the battering. But every time he returned, he stayed a little bit longer, and dug in his heels until he felt himself on the verge of breaking down. Then he fled.   
  
Fuuma clenched his fists. The worst part was not the nightmares. It wasn't even the fact that he was some person whose job had been to destroy humanity, kill his own sister, and break the heart of the only other person in the world who cared for him. It was simply that he couldn't go down on his knees and beg forgiveness. He would give nearly anything in the world to be able to do that for his sister and Kamui—and he couldn't. He couldn't tell them, not because they wouldn't believe him, but because he couldn't bring himself to. How do you tell the people you love that you spent your past life killing them or driving them over the edge? How do you tell them you caused them that much misery, and nearly terrorised them to death? How do you tell them you spilt their blood? How can you tell them that you loved them then, loved them more than anything in the world—and yet you could bear to sacrifice them at that time? How can you bear to see them look at you like you're some kind of monster? How can you break their hearts for the second time?   
  
You can only walk away, and stay in the shadows, and swear by everything holy that in this lifetime, you will guard them forever, for as long as you live, and you will take nothing from them, not even that which they're willing to give. And if you hurt them too much by being with them, and if they can no longer find joy in your company—if they see you no more in the light of a friend—if you can't give them what they want as their friend—then all you can do is to go away, so you won't hurt them anymore. That way, they can find someone else to give them what they need.   
  
Fuuma would have stayed with Kamui, even though the very sight of Kamui made him remember all over again the white-hot agony he had felt a thousand years ago when he had plunged the _shinken_ into Kamui, and felt Kamui's _shinken_, twin blade to his, slide, hard, sharp and fast, into his body, at the same time. But the nightmares had terrified Fuuma, and while he tried on his own to battle his darkness, he had pushed away his best friend without meaning to. And to top it all, he didn't know exactly how he felt about Kamui. Did he love the other as more than a friend? Had he fallen in love in this lifetime, or was it merely a powerful echo of the past, a reflection of his nightmares? Before he could find out what he really felt, they had quarrelled badly, and it was all over...   
  
On the steps of the New Tokyo Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, a tall, dark-haired teenager stopped for a moment to look at the tall spire of New Tokyo Tower outlined in the light of the setting sun, and built next to the site where the old one had stood a thousand years ago. Some day, he thought, he would go there. Alone. But not just yet. Not just yet.   
  
And far in the distance, in a certain high school, the senior dance for the class of A.D. 3167 was about to begin.


	10. After The Fact Version 3 Part 9

© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline by Gold   
  
Disclaimer: Characters and pasts borrowed from CLAMP temporarily.   
  
'Allo. Dedicated to angst-lovers. Also for Seishirou-lovers. Seishirou offers a starkly different point of view, and Fuuma is hesitant and despondent.   
  
_After The Fact (Version 3.0)   
Part 9: Under Endless Skies_   
  
The skies were a clear, dark endless expanse by the time Fuuma finally left off circling Ueno Park like some lost soul. He made his way into the main streets, rubbing shoulders with the thickening crowds of the night. These were the citizens of Tokyo, descendants of those who had lived and died here a thousand years ago. Fuuma wondered just how many of them had been reincarnated, as he had. That young woman with the bright face, who had been gazing into a window display of the finest gems the shop had to offer; or the boys in the junior high uniform from another school, laughing as they exited a nearby café; or perhaps that man over there, looking up at the evening news?   
  
"Hmmm."   
  
Fuuma blinked at the man who had suddenly materialised before him. "Eh—Sakura…Sakurazaka-san."   
  
"You're doing better," said Seishirou dryly. "At least you've stopped calling me by the other name."   
  
Fuuma had nothing to say to that. It was difficult not to want to call this man _Sakurazukamori_. Whatever he might be now, Sakurazaka Seishirou in this life, apart from looking exactly like his old self, still bore very strongly many of the qualities he had in his past life. He had strength of character, and strength of will; he had a swift, sure intelligence and a quickness of observation; his wit was dry and cryptic, yet undeniably humorous; and there was something very strong, sure and certain about him. And above all, one did not mess with him. Yet he was also safe, Fuuma realised; in this lifetime, this Seishirou was human as the other one had not been. This one's smile was real; this one's eyes were kind and straight from the heart; this one, Fuuma suspected, was very much like the veterinarian the Sumeragi Subaru of yesteryear had fallen in love with.   
  
"Have you eaten?" inquired Seishirou courteously.   
  
"Ah, no. Have you?"   
  
"No." Seishirou paused and turned his face slightly, facing the direction of the New Tokyo Tower.   
  
"Not there!" Fuuma's voice was sharp.   
  
Seishirou whirled back to face him, the wind picking up suddenly, and leaves swirled around them. He said nothing, but his eyes were gentle and understanding.   
  
They stood there silently, as if they had carved out a space in time all to themselves, despite the people milling around them. Man and boy they were, one with shoulders still weighed down with a burden despite seven years of wrestling with it, and the other newly awoken to carrying it.   
  
"How…do you get used to it?" Fuuma asked, his voice very low. He had wanted to ask Seishirou that question for a long time, but he had always refrained, for fear of giving Seishirou additional pain. –Their past quiet chats, accompanied by ice-cream of varying flavours and toppings, had revealed to Fuuma a man who had undergone exactly the same cycle of self-loathing, agony, comprehension and then weary resignation. Fuuma had not felt comfortable with asking such a question, but looking at Seishirou, who was the only other person who had been through it and who was _still_ living in a hell like his—it was a question that had to be answered.   
  
Seishirou shrugged. "For want of a better turn of phrase—you don't get used to it. You live with it," he answered quietly. He glanced shortly at the boy. "It's early days yet, Monou-kun," he said, not unkindly.   
  
Fuuma looked up at the taller, older man. "You did this alone," he said slowly. "For seven years, Sakurazaka-san, you did this alone."   
  
Seishirou was silent for a while, his eyes lowered. He breathed a soft sigh before he spoke. "It was very difficult." His face and voice were bleak with memory. "I thought I was going crazy at first. One does not easily dream of killing one's best friends…or of a life as someone gifted with supernatural powers used for killing." He drew a long breath. "But there was no other choice. This is my second lifetime; I think perhaps there is a reason for me to be given these memories—maybe a second chance. Subaru-kun and Hokuto-chan were not given such memories when they turned sixteen. I watched carefully…but nothing. I'm grateful for that," he added.   
  
Fuuma brushed his hair out of his eyes, whence the wind had blown it. He swallowed. "The worst thing…" he whispered, and the wind carried his words across to the patiently listening Seishirou, "…the worst thing…is that I can't even tell them about it…can't ask them for forgiveness…because I can't…tell them…"   
  
"Do you regret what you did the last time, then?"   
  
Fuuma hesitated. He thought for a moment. Did he? If—   
  
"Because I don't. And for me, that is the worst thing."   
  
Astounded, Fuuma stared. Seishirou—_didn't_ regret?   
  
"Believe me, I'm really quite bitter about it." Seishirou's smile was, indeed, bitterly ironic. "I wouldn't do anything differently. Nothing—_not a single thing_. I'd make a bet with Subaru-kun again, and mark him, just so I could find him again. I'd go everywhere with them for one year, just to be with them. I'd protect him again, watch him as he did his jobs, guard his back again—because it means I would be there, and I would know that nobody could hurt him—save myself. I'd lose that eye for him again—lose my life, if it mattered. I'd kill Hokuto again to force him back into the living world. Because I didn't kill her simply to satisfy my own pride, _Kamui_. There were only two people who could bring him out; myself—and that was impossible—and Hokuto-chan—but she had too little power. And I'd invoke her spell all over again, no matter how much it's going to cost, because I owed Hokuto-chan that much, to let her brother live. It was the only part of her wish that I fulfilled." He gave a short, painful laugh, and the sound of it was a discordant chord that struck the air harshly and then faded away in a broken murmur. "At least now I know why I've always wanted to protect him—and Hokuto-chan. Do you know the worst part? I _understand_ why I had to do what I did. –I'd do it all over again."   
  
It was as if someone had turned the world inside out and then spun it a hundred and fifty-seven degrees eastward, before tilting it westwards. In a flash, Fuuma suddenly understood.   
  
"We were given a set of circumstances," went on Seishirou, still in that hard, yet brittle voice. "We were there; we couldn't walk away any more than a president of a country faced with a nuclear disaster on his or her hands. We sacrificed _everything_ so that we could leave something behind. In this lifetime, we've been given forgiveness. Those people we hurt don't remember how much we hurt them. That's enough. I think we chose to remember our pasts, Monou-kun, so in this lifetime we have a second chance to make things right. " The line of his jaw tightened. "I'm not going after Subaru-kun this lifetime. There's too much of my past inside me for that and I'm not half good enough for him…so all I'm going to do, is just to do anything I can for them."   
  
There was nothing Fuuma could say in reply to that.   
  
Seishirou turned to him with a softer look. "Monou-kun. We are two separate people; my decision is my own—"   
  
"I know." Fuuma looked away. "I don't want to have to do again what I did back then…but I don't know, I don't know if I can understand what I did…not yet. I don't know, either, about Kamui. I—he's my best friend—" he stopped for a moment. "I can't tell…if I'm _really_ in love with him…or if it's just part of my memories…how did you know…?"   
  
Seishirou smiled sadly. "I didn't. It isn't so much about me, as it is about Subaru-kun. I know he's beginning to care for me again, and Hokuto-chan has been as subtle as a chainsaw over it. How much I care doesn't matter."   
  
"I see," said Fuuma softly. He did see.   
  
They remained there for a while in silence, whilst the stars overhead tried to compete with the glittering lights of Tokyo. In the distance, Fuuma caught sight of New Tokyo Tower once again, glittering blue, gold and red in the distance.   
  
"Dinner?" Seishirou's voice cut into Fuuma's reverie.   
  
Fuuma shook himself free of his thoughts. "No. No, not tonight," he said a little apologetically. For tonight, he wanted to be alone.   
  
Seishirou nodded. He had merely been polite. "See you around, then."   
  
And that night, two of Tokyo's loneliest souls wandered the bustling city streets, alone and separately, with only their memories and nightmares for company.


	11. After The Fact Version 3 Part 10

**Thank you so much, everyone, for all the reviews. This is inadequate thanks... but it's all I can truly manage for now. Wish I could say thank you in many different languages or something equally fancy. **

© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline by Gold   
  
Disclaimer: If I had been CLAMP, Seishirou and Subaru would have lived happily ever after. With each other. Nevertheless, what's a CLAMP story without some tears? --Even if it's only fanfiction...

By the way, this is the third millennium, people use key-cards, not keys. They give their friends access-cards, with a special code. To ban access, they simply alter the code.

_After The Fact (Version 3.0)   
Part 10: The Hardest Fall of All_   
  
Seishirou looked silently at the two holographic models poised above his desk. He turned them round and round, viewing it from every possible angle, including sideways and upside-down, just for the heck of it. Two bridges; both were beautiful and looked fairly similar. The architects and engineers who had designed the newer bridge had tried to recapture some of the old design, but since it was not meant to be a copy of the original, they had of course made several changes. The gleaming white curves and columns of Rebirth Bridge, the successor to Rainbow Bridge, had won world acclaim for the team behind it. It stood today as a magnificent example of early twenty-first century design and engineering.   
  
With a flick of his thumb, Seishirou turned off the holographic display. Rainbow Bridge…it did not exist in this time, but there had been holographic models of it, and he owned some of the best holograms of it. He had shopped around until he found the best. After all, he had died there in his previous lifetime, for a number of reasons it had taken years to understand. How many times had he examined Rainbow Bridge? How many times had he walked over Bridge of Rebirth, so named in honour of the rebuilding of Tokyo, just to feel what it might have been like?   
  
His eyes fell on the two photographs that he kept on the desk in his study. One was that of his family, and the other, of him with Subaru and Hokuto, in a pose not too dissimilar to one from the past, which he remembered vaguely. Just Subaru and Hokuto, and him, standing over them. A soft smile touched Seishirou's lips. It was one of his favourite photographs. It had been taken only last year, on one of the outings Hokuto had dragged him out on, trying to matchmake him with Subaru again. Though she had decided to find him a boyfriend/girlfriend all those years ago, she had abandoned that idea in favour of trying to get him together with her twin. And if fate had permitted it, Hokuto needn't have tried—Seishirou would have been happy to join in her schemes.   
  
It was difficult to tell when he had started to notice Subaru—difficult to tell when the line between friendship and love had crossed, and difficult to tell if what he was feeling was a powerful echo of the past, or something from this lifetime. Would he have fallen for Subaru without those memories of the past? He wasn't quite sure, exactly. He certainly didn't feel for anyone else the _type_ of emotion Sumeragi Subaru seemed to rouse in him, but at the same time, Seishirou had never let this emotion get anywhere beyond passive. Or perhaps he was exceedingly successful at clamping down on an emotion he refused to allow himself the luxury of enjoying or developing. True, he couldn't help caring; couldn't help doing little things and extra gestures; couldn't help it because he just wanted to be _the_ one to make Subaru happy. Sometimes Seishirou wouldn't even realise what he was doing, until one of Subaru's shy but eloquent looks sent him to his senses.   
  
And so what if Subaru had gone with Kamui to the senior dance that night? It was really a graduation dance of sorts for the high school seniors. But still, it was only a dance. Seishirou buried his face in his hands. He was dog-tired, his head ached, and his heart hurt, and he'd rather be anywhere than behind his desk in his apartment. But then again, it was nothing new. It wasn't as if this was the first time…   
  
He was so tired that he did not know when he fell asleep at his desk.   
  
He was so tired that he did not know when 2 a.m. struck and unexpected guests arrived.   
  
He was so tired that he did not hear a muttering Hokuto ("I told you not to drink, but did you listen?! Nooooooo…") with a somewhat tipsy Subaru on one arm, stumble into the apartment, or Kakyou, doing the same for Shirou Kamui.   
  
He was so tired that he did not know when Kakyou left, and Hokuto pottered grumpily around the apartment, looking for Sei-chan and walking past the locked study.   
  
He was so tired he did not wake until the crick in his neck made its presence painfully felt. Or perhaps all the noises had managed to stir his subconsciousness…   
  
He was so tired that he did no more than to glance at the digital clock through bleary eyes; it said two forty-three and counting.   
  
He was so tired that he did not hear any unusual noises, but simply dragged himself out of the study and headed for his bathroom.   
  
And then—   
  
He just happened to pass the living room.   
  
He was not so tired that he didn't notice the liplocked duo sprawled gracelessly across his favourite armchair.   
  
Seishirou went white.   
  
It felt as if a thousand blades were systematically and mercilessly twisting their way through him, their aim fierce and true, and—oh, the pain, the _pain_. He gritted his teeth, but he could not stop himself from stumbling back and falling against the wall. He wondered briefly how long it would be before his heart would stop breaking—if that was what it was doing, twisting and turning wildly, and then shattering a hundred different ways at once. Somehow he had a feeling that it was never going to end until he died. If he had wanted to know whether what he had felt for Subaru was _real_ or simply a reflection of the past, well, there was nothing echo-y or reflective about the thousand blades tearing through him, and it was certainly closer to passion and heartbreak rather passivity…   
  
Sumeragi Subaru never knew what it was that alerted him at the edges of his somewhat hazy consciousness, to something other than Shirou Kamui's lips on his. Perhaps it was the sound of the vase that had gone crashing to the floor, swept off its perch by the involuntary movement of a young man with a shattered heart. Whatever it was, Subaru found himself suddenly stumbling to his feet, pushing the equally tipsy Kamui away. He turned his head slowly—and froze. It was as if he had been given a sobering tonic.   
  
Seishirou was leaning against the wall, rumpled and weary, his hair attractively mussed from sleep. He was still in one of his work shirts, which Subaru recognised, but it was open at the neck, and badly crumpled. He was, as usual, absolutely and breathtakingly gorgeous, and Subaru swallowed hard.   
  
But it was the stricken look on his face that told Subaru what Seishirou must have seen. Seishirou simply stood still, looking oddly pale and tragic, and for a moment, his eyes met Subaru's, anguished and transparent, and there was nothing left to be said. The walls had crumbled, the masks were gone, the abyss had yawned before them and they had fallen. Subaru, who had gone scarlet at first, now went dreadfully white in his turn, and he was filled with horror at his mistake. If he had ever thought that Seishirou did not love him, he saw at a blinding flash that he had never been more wrong. He gave a choked, inarticulate cry.   
  
"Seishirou-san! I—I—" Subaru stumbled forward unsteadily, hands outstretched pleadingly, remorsefully, but Seishirou stepped back swiftly, out of reach. "Seishirou-san—!" cried Subaru, his eyes filling with tears. "Don't—!"   
  
But Seishirou said nothing, and only looked at him with a strange new face—the face of a man who sees someone who is a stranger to him.   
  
Subaru halted, his voice catching in his throat. "Seishirou-san—" he whispered painfully, wanting to apologise, but he was cut off.   
  
Seishirou had walked towards him and into the living room. He did not look at either Subaru or the equally silent, horrified Kamui. Instead, he stopped some distance from the front door, his back to them. "You have half an hour to get out, Sumeragi-san," he bit out. "See that Shirou-san's presence is removed from my home, as well as yours."   
  
Seishirou did not wait for a reply. Before half a minute was through, he was out of his own apartment, and out in the streets, and he would not return this night.   
  



	12. After The Fact Version 3 Part 11

© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline created by Gold

Disclaimer: Not related to CLAMP.  
  
Dedicated to Mikuro-san, for sheer intensity of F/K moments. Also for his providing a gorgeous F/K memory in the zip file he sent of an F/K hugging scene beneath a tree.  
  
Does Fuuma have gold eyes? W-ell...

* * *

_After The Fact (Version 3.0)  
Part 11: Fragile_  
  
Shirou Kamui forced his eyes open. Ye gods above, his head _hurt_. It took him a little while to get used to the fact that there were a couple of hammers splitting apart his skull from the inside. Very slowly, he registered other sensations. There was softness beneath him and all around him. Carefully, he raised himself on one elbow, teetering sideways, and groaned as the hammers concentrated their pounding on one side of his head. He manoeuvred his other elbow into position and was relieved when the hammers began to strike symmetrically again. Then he looked around, wincing in time to the pounding in his head. The place was vaguely familiar…he knew he had seen that slightly battered-looking desk before, with the bag hanging neatly from the chair…and the vari-coloured e-posters on the walls switching from one image to another as he stared…and the pattern of the cream-and-dark-brown bedsheets that he was nestled in—_cream-and-dark-brown bedsheets?!_  
  
He was in _Fuuma's_ room—in _Fuuma's bed_!  
  
Kamui blinked and frantically racked his brains, trying to remember what, if anything, had happened the night before—  
  
"Ohayo, Kamui-chan!"  
  
Kamui jumped.  
  
Monou Kotori was smiling broadly at him from just inside the entrance of the room. She was carrying a large tray, heaped high with food, and it smelt rather good to Kamui, whose stomach suddenly growled.  
  
Kotori giggled at the sound. "How are you feeling?" she asked.  
  
"Terrible," admitted Kamui, with several groans. He wondered when his head would finally split apart. Surely it would have done so by n-o-o-wwwwww…  
  
Kotori placed the tray on the desk nearby and brought a steaming mug towards Kamui. "Here, drink this."  
  
Kamui stared at it suspiciously, then peered at Kotori. "Is this some sort of a dream…?"  
  
Kotori laughed. "Of course not, Kamui-chan! Don't you remember what happened last night? You were _drunk_." She shook her head. "You have a very low tolerance of alcohol…you shouldn't have tried to drink last night, after the dance."  
  
The dance!  
  
Kamui's eyes widened. He remembered all right. He remembered _too many things_…  
  
"But how did I get here?" he murmured. "I don't understand…" This was Fuuma's room, and the last he remembered was being…elsewhere.  
  
Kotori regarded him gravely. "Hokuto-chan called onii-chan at 3 am this morning. She said that you were drunk and so was Subaru-san, and she couldn't take care of both of you. Onii-chan drove down to pick you up. You were already asleep by then. Here, don't think about it anymore," she added. "Drink this. 'kaa-san says it's good for people with hangovers."  
  
Obediently, Kamui swallowed the contents of the mug. Almost immediately, his headache lessened from hammers to that of a more ordinary headache. And he could now think more clearly. He looked down at himself. He was clad in a dark blue shirt a little too big and too loose for him—evidently Fuuma's—but he still had his dress pants on from the night before. Kamui immediately blushed. Presumably whoever had undressed him had carefully chosen not to go into questionable areas.  
  
"Gomen ne. And—and arigatou gozaimasu," he said, ashamed of himself. "I'm so sorry I bothered everyone—"  
  
Kotori smiled brightly at him. "It's all right. We don't mind! Now that you're here, it's a good thing. –Will you talk to my brother later?"  
  
At the mention of Fuuma, Kamui blushed even more deeply. After all, he had woken in the other boy's room, in the other boy's bed—wearing the other boy's shirt…  
  
Kotori's eyes were soft. "He let you sleep here last night, because he knew the sofa would be too uncomfortable for you. He won't say that, of course, but you know him." She waved her hand at the tray of food on the desk. "There's breakfast. I made it for you; it's your favourite. Try to eat as much as you can. I have to go now, but I'll ask my brother to look in on you."  
  
Kamui cleared his throat. "It's all right. I'll—I'll go and see him myself. I want to—to thank him. On my own."  
  
Kotori nodded. "I'll tell you where he is as soon as I find him. I'll keep him here, don't worry!" She tipped him a quick smile and left.  
  
It wasn't the fact that Fuuma might not be there that worried him, Kamui thought as he struggled out of bed after Kotori had left. It was the fact that Fuuma _would_ be there that terrified Kamui. He wasn't sure of himself around the older boy anymore. They were no longer best friends after that stupid argument—he couldn't even remember what they had argued about, although he clearly remembered saying some particularly nasty things in the face of Fuuma's silence, which had finally roused the older boy's temper.  
  
Kamui ate some breakfast half-heartedly. He was not feeling particularly hungry despite his stomach's vocal protests, and besides, the mug of what's-it-called had been quite a heavy mixture. He had just pushed away the tray, wondering what to do next, when the door to the room slid open, and Fuuma stepped in. He did not shut the door, nor did he look directly at Kamui, fixing his eyes instead on the half-full tray.  
  
"Gomen ne, I didn't know you hadn't finished." His voice was polite.  
  
Kamui flushed. "No, I'm—I'm done. I'm full."  
  
"Oh. Ah," mumbled Fuuma intelligently, still addressing the tray. "So, uh, I can take that away?"  
  
Kamui nodded slightly.  
  
Fuuma stepped forward and managed to get to his desk and to lay hands on the tray, all without looking once at the boy sitting on his chair at his desk. But then a small hand closed lightly, unexpectedly, around his wrist, and he froze, involuntarily darting a quick look at Kamui.  
  
"Domo arigatou, Fuuma," whispered Kamui, bravely meeting Fuuma's startled gaze. "For everything. Kotori-chan said that you drove down early this morning to help me. I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble."  
  
Fuuma, who had stiffened at first, seemed to relax a little, and he turned his face back to the tray, carefully pulling away from Kamui. "It's nothing."

Kamui bit his lip. "Fuuma… _gomen_ _nasai_," he mumbled, swallowing hard. "For everything I've said and done—I'm so sorry. I—I want us to be best friends again, like we were before, please..."  
  
It was only then that Fuuma looked at him, with eyes that were both kind and grave. Without a word, he briefly touched Kamui's cheek with one finger. It was a gentle touch, and no more than a slight caress, one that might have meant no more than a brotherly gentleness, but the colour in Kamui's face instantly deepened by several more shades. If Fuuma noticed it, he made no comment.  
  
Instead he picked up the tray. "We'll talk about this later," he said quietly, sounding more like the Fuuma Kamui knew. "Kotori says that you still have a headache. You had better rest."  
  
Kamui nodded and watched Fuuma with yearning eyes and half-parted, wistful lips. But his best friend, and the one person he liked best in the world, did not notice…  
  
Monou Fuuma stood by the trees just inside the walls of the memorial shrine to those who had fallen in the devastation of Tokyo a thousand years ago. He had gone into the shrine several times when he was younger, together with his family and Kamui's family, to honour those who had died, so they would always remember. It was very important to not forget those who had gone before you. Nearly everyone in Japan had lost some family member in Tokyo in those days. The Monou and Shirou families were lucky to be two families who did not have tablets set up to members of their families who had died, but the wives in the families had had relatives who had died, and they had come to remember them. And even if the two families had escaped completely unscathed, they would still have come.  
  
Except that Fuuma now knew that the reason why there had been no tablets set up for those of the Dragons who had died, was because there had been nobody to left to remember them. It wasn't so much the fact that he wanted tablets set up to honour all of them. After all, a good number of them seemed to have been reincarnated and Fuuma was ready to bet that he'd run into the rest of the Dragons sooner or later. It would be very odd to set up tablets to living people. Rather, it felt the height of utter injustice that humanity should remain completely impervious to the massive sacrifices that had been made for them. Perhaps he could ask Seishirou about that. They could buy space for one simple tablet and dedicate it to all the Dragons who had died…people would just think that the Ten no Ryu and Chi no Ryu were the names of _yakuza_ gangs or something…  
  
A little way off, Shirou Kamui stood, watching his best friend.  
  
When he hadn't been able to find Fuuma after waking from a nap, Kotori had suggested that he look for her older brother here. Of late, Kotori said, her onii-chan had been taking special interest in the shrine, although she did not know why.  
  
For Kamui, it was rare that he had a chance to simply stand still and watch Fuuma, so that was what he did instead of calling out. In Kamui's eyes, the older boy was perfection personified, and it wasn't merely the physical either, that captured Kamui's heart. True, Fuuma cut a lithe, darkly handsome figure, with skin that had been tanned to a golden-brown, a remarkably sculpted profile that spoke volumes about his straight nose and determined chin, and beautiful eyes that could only be described as a smouldering dark gold. But Fuuma was also reserved and quiet, cloaked with a cool dignity that often seemed to clash with the promise of passion in those eyes. And the icing on the cake was the fact that he had a character at least as beautiful as his looks. That was what had really claimed Kamui's heart, if Fuuma had but known!  
  
—Because Fuuma had a heart. That was all Kamui could say about it, if asked to describe it. It was a gentle heart that understood without words, and comforted with sheer strength; it was a kind heart that led Fuuma to do things without even considering the amount of inconvenience it would put him to; it was a beauty-seeking heart that could cut into the heart of things, and uncover loveliness unseen; it was a loving heart that had taken Kamui in unasked and without fear, and protected him. It was a heart that made Fuuma glow with the brightness of several galaxies in Kamui's eyes, and it was that heart that had convinced Kamui to give _his_ own heart into its keeping.  
  
And even as Kamui watched, Fuuma sensed his presence and turned with a startled look that evaporated quickly into a smile. It was not a guarded smile and Kamui's relief drew him close to the older boy.  
  
"You should be resting."  
  
Fuuma's voice was as cool as ever, his manner reserved, but the dark gold of the eyes was soft and it warmed Kamui. Then he remembered what he was here for and his face fell.  
  
"Fuuma… I—I need to tell you something…" Kamui scuffed the shoe of one foot against the ground beneath the trees. "I—it's about last night…" His untidy dark hair swept over his eyes and he bent his head, so that the taller boy could not see his face.  
  
Fuuma remained silent, waiting.  
  
"I—I—" Kamui's voice nearly died to a whisper, and Fuuma had to strain to catch the soft words. "I… kissed Subaru last night…"  
  
The silence was almost deafening.  
  
Kamui licked his suddenly dry lips. "Sakurazaka-san…saw us…we were at his apartment…" He bit his lip. "Fuuma, I—I'm so sorry…I think—I think he's in love with Subaru…" Kamui lifted his head and was immediately stunned.  
  
Fuuma looked as if he had just been struck in the face, and the expression he wore was nearly as ghastly as Sakurazaka Seishirou's last night. He was as white as a sheet and his eyes were a wild, stormy gold. He could barely speak. "… you… what…?"  
  
Kamui caught hold of Fuuma's hands, barely noticing that they had been clenched into tight, white fists. With a jerk, Fuuma pulled away from him and stumbled back, falling against a tree.  
  
Kamui lifted his chin and swallowed a sob. "I didn't know Sakurazaka-san—I didn't mean, I, I mean, I know you like him—"  
  
Fuuma shuddered a little and the wildness flickered out of his eyes as he looked at the tearful Kamui. "Seishirou… he's been in love with Subaru for longer than anyone knows," he murmured in anguished tones. "Oh, Kami-sama…"  
  
Whatever Fuuma was expecting, it certainly hadn't been Kamui suddenly hurling himself at him, hugging him fiercely and babbling apologies.  
  
"Fuuma, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, but I couldn't not tell you, I know you like Sakurazaka-sempai, and I never wanted to hurt you, but—"  
  
"Shh." Fuuma's eyes were kind, but there was unmistakeable heartbreak in the depths of the dark gold, and it wrung Kamui's heart. "Shh, it's all right."  
  
"No, it's not all right! I—"  
  
Kamui was silenced by the firm yet gentle touch of the fingers on his mouth, silencing him. Then strong arms drew him closer.  
  
"No, it's not all right, Kamui. I know you love Subaru—"  
  
"No. Not Subaru, not like—not like Sakurazaka-san loves him…" _It's you I like, a lot… I think I may even love you the way Subaru loves Sakurazaka-sempai… Fuuma… I wish you knew that, without my having to tell you..._  
  
The arms around Kamui tightened subconsciously, but neither said any more, each fearing to reveal what was inside the deepest, most precious corner of his heart, for fear that it might be shattered for its fragility.

* * *


End file.
